


Something To Take The Edge Off

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M, Other Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8080303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: "And I, poor monster, dote as much on him" (Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, 2.2). Includes Reed/m. (04/21/2004)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers: 3.01 "The Xindi," 3.03 "Extinction," 3.05 "Impulse," 3.09 "North Star," general Season 3.  
  
This _was_ AU to my other stories. Then I got swamped with more miserable little bunnies and this resulted. If I'd realized when I wrote StKtP that this would end up being a series, I'd have made the titles shorter. Please also consider this series now in canon with my other fics. I apologize to Trip and Malcolm (and Josh Kemper), but I gotta go where the Muse leads.This is also not the story I'd originally intended to write for 'Drown Malcolm Month.' Unfortunately, the other bunnie gave me about 10 pages, then starting frothing at the mouth and keeled over. I've now got nearly 30 pages of a fic I started last year that seems to be going nowhere at an exhaustive rate. It's been back-burnered again; hopefully I'll finish it before the _Enterprise_ series ends. In the mean time, I submit this for your approval. P.S.: I finally got to see 'North Star' on Friday, and Snipe's in that episode, too! Just look for the cute spiky-haired blond briefly in front of the shuttle with the shooting starts. It's him! ;- > Note: Excessive use of MACOs. Much beer drinking. Some angst.  
  
Beta reader(s): The InKredible Kageygirl! Thank you so much, especially as you did a bang-up job under great duress of time. (Note: any problems come from the sections the Kagester wasn't able to get to, and are solely my fault.)  


* * *

"I tell you, man, it was the weirdest thing, being transported." Corporal Chang gave a theatric shudder and took a healthy swig of his beer, as if he needed the nourishment before he could continue. He pulled the bottle from his lips, pointing at MacKenzie with the hand wrapped around its neck. "You would have loved it. Right before everything kind of blinks out, there's all these blue lights. All funky and psychedelic and shit."

MacKenzie snorted over the rim of her own bottle, unimpressed. "I'd rather keep my molecules intact and miss the lightshow, thanks."

"Christ, Chang," Snipe sighed. "That was _weeks_ ago. Can't you fucking talk about anything else?" The scruffy blond tilted his bottle for a drink, then scowled at it when he realized it was empty. "I'm out," he said to the room at large as he put the bottle on the floor.

Hawkins reached into the cooler Chang had brought and unceremoniously tossed him another one; Snipe caught it with a casual raise of his left hand. He was good at stuff like that, anything to do with aim.

"I'm glad we didn't have to be transported off the Vulcan ship," Hawkins said quietly. He was sitting on the opposite end of the room from Snipe, on the floor with his back against Joshua's bed. He had his knees up and his hands dangling between them, cradling his bottle by its neck. His eyes were on the bottle, which was gently swinging back and forth. He'd been quiet since he got back from the mission to the _Seleya_ , really, but Joshua had no idea what to do about it. He just hoped the corporal would get over whatever was bothering him if he was given enough time.

Chang was just the opposite: since he'd gone with Commander Tucker to rescue the captain and Ensign Sato from the planet where they'd been transformed into aliens, he hadn't shut up about it. "Yeah, well, it kind of sticks in your mind, you know?" He was sitting cross-legged on the deck, leaning against the bulkhead next to the door. He started tapping a nervous little tattoo against the side of his bottle. "That, and having to stun the captain. That was fucked."

"It's not like getting stunned's that big a deal," Money said. She was lying flat with her upper body on Joshua's bed with her hands laced over her stomach. Her feet were still on the floor; close enough to Hawkins that he could have leaned on her legs if he wanted. Money didn't drink. "Last mission I was on, Lieutenant Reed had to take out the Sub-Commander to get at the guy threatening her. He didn't even bat an eye."

"I was on that mission too, remember?" Snipe directed at Money. He was the sole occupant of Joshua's couch, sitting right in the middle with his arms spread wide along the headrest and his legs open as far as they could comfortably go. "Hell—he was over the damn moon about getting to drop her. He hates that Vulcan's guts."

"He does not!" MacKenzie retorted. She made a face at him. "You're such a fucking rumor-monger, Snipe. Who the hell told you that?"

Snipe shrugged, completely unconcerned. "C'Mon, Mac. It's common knowledge."

MacKenzie snorted again. "'Common knowledge' my ass. You've just got a hate-on for him because Reed wouldn't let Hayes lead the rescue mission to that mining op. If you could see beyond your dick—"

"Hey," Joshua said mildly, "you want to go for each other, take it outside."

"Yes, sir," MacKenzie said, with Snipe echoing. MacKenzie shot another glare at Snipe, but left it alone. The MACO sniper's crush on Major Matthew Hayes was legendary, and Joshua was privately sure that Mac was right: Snipe's perpetual irritation at the Starfleet lieutenant was solely due to his belief that his idol wasn't getting the recognition he deserved. But Joshua had already done as much as he was going to do to deal with it; they'd had few enough evenings where they could just relax as it was—he wasn't going to start pulling rank and ruining this one.

Even, of course, if he had his own reasons for wanting to defend the character of Malcolm Reed. But no one needed to know about that, Snipe least of all.

"Give it a rest, Snipe!" That was Money, now in full-on bitch mode. She was sitting up, arms crossed over her chest. "Christ—Reed's led almost every away mission since we got into the Expanse. He was looking like death warmed-over for a while there, not to mention that he nearly _did_ die after he saved Josh's ass, right?" (There was a general murmur of agreement, even a grudging one from Snipe, Joshua noticed.) "And the Major's got a lot of time for him, as a matter of fact," Money continued her lecture, "if you didn't have your head too far up your butt to notice."

That, for some reason, was finally enough to get Hawkins to look up. "Are he and the Major going out?"

Snipe practically snapped to attention at that, slamming his knees together and leaning so far forward Joshua thought he might tumble straight over onto the floor.

Joshua straightened up as well, now paying complete attention. "He's not," he said. He took a long drink of his beer, mostly to make sure he didn't say anything else. He hoped to hell no one would ask him how come he knew.

"He isn't." MacKenzie shook her head, as if Joshua hadn't just said the same thing. "Reed and Hayes are just buddies; Tucker's the guy he swaps spit with. I heard they've been an item going on three years."

Joshua froze. He could practically feel his heart stop, then stumble into beating again, rapid and painful. The tepid beer slid down his throat like ice. He lowered the bottle carefully to the floor; feeling stupidly like he had to move slowly or he'd break apart.

The commander and Malcolm. He'd never thought about it. Never even imagined Malcolm might have a lover. Not even when Malcolm had shown up at his quarters looking like his world had ended. Not even then.

"Yeah?" Snipe was asking eagerly, tilting forward even more. "You sure?"

"This from the rumor merchant," Money said.

"Sure I'm sure," MacKenzie said. She drank more of her beer, tilting her head back as she drained it. When she'd finished, MacKenzie _clacked_ the bottle decisively against the deck, as if it was punctuating what she was about to say. "One of the looey's staff told me."

"How did you find out that Reed was going out with the Commander?" Joshua asked. He was proud at how casual he sounded, like the answer meant nothing. He hadn't known. How could he not have known? How could Malcolm not have told him?

MacKenzie smiled. "You know how it is. These things come up sometimes."

"Right," Snipe drawled. "You were probably telling him who'd you'd like to fuck."

If looks could kill, MacKenzie's glare would have reduced Snipe to ashes. "Yeah, well, some of us aren't delusional, asshole."

"Did they tell you that Tucker and Reed were going out?" Joshua asked. He winced inwardly, sure his voice had a tug of impatience in it, sure MacKenzie would guess. But she didn't seem to notice.

"Uh-huh," MacKenzie nodded. "Said it was totally old news, too." She sighed, leaning back and stretching. "Too bad—I sure wouldn't've kicked Tucker out of bed for eating crackers." She grinned wickedly. "...Or anything else."

"Oh man, that is _definitely_ too much information!" Chang groaned. "I _really_ didn't want that image in my head, thank you very much."

Snipe said something about Chang finally not thinking about the transporters, then, but Joshua had stopped listening.

No. Joshua wasn't stupid, even if he was smitten worse than Snipe with the major. Malcolm had rejected him, after all, during decon. He wouldn't have turned around and shown up at Joshua's quarters for nothing. Something had changed his mind.

Sure, he had known. On some level, anyway. He was just a substitute, filling in for the one Malcolm really wanted, but couldn't have.

Filling in for Commander Charles Tucker, then. Joshua must have known.

He just hadn't cared.

"Hey," MacKenzie said suddenly, jostling his leg with her foot, "you in there, Sarge?"

"What?" Joshua blinked, looking at her. She and the other MACOs were staring at him expectantly, as if he'd just been asked a question. He tried to smile, though he was sure it was weak and lop-sided. "What is it? I miss something?"

"Only more of Snipe's usual crap," MacKenzie said. "You just looked like you were a million miles away there." She tilted her head, and her hair slid down one shoulder. "You okay?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Joshua said. He even laughed. "I'm just fine."

* * *

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed sat in the mess hall, at one forlorn table next to the large window that gave such a glorious view of the terrible, terrible stars.

The room was darkened; it was very late and even the gamma shift had come and gone, at least two hours before the stewards would come in to begin preparing breakfast. Until then, any late-shift stragglers or nightwalkers like himself would be stuck with whatever they could get from the replicators. At least it made a decent mug of black tea.

Not that he'd drunk any of it, but it had, for a little while, been strangely comforting to have the solid heat of the ceramic between his hands. He could still feel a little bit of warmth now, against his palms. Like a memory.

He was looking into the mug, at the black ripples of the liquid, watching the shadows move across it as he tilted the cup gently back and forth in his hands.

He hoped Trip was sleeping. He didn't even know if Trip was still going to T'Pol for the acupressure or whatever special Vulcan thing it was. He and the commander hadn't spoken since Malcolm had been released from Sick bay. Part of that was because Malcolm was almost constantly off the ship these days, trying to find the location of that damned Xindi weapon.

The rest...

The rest of that was because Trip didn't want him. Not anymore. Trip had said he 'didn't have room,' like Malcolm was a commodity, an object Trip couldn't find space for. Like Malcolm wasn't even human.

The hurt of that, the pain, was astonishing. It was like a wall he couldn't get through, a weight that wouldn't go away. It dragged him down, made it hard to breathe. Like his lungs were filled with water, no room for air left in them.

Malcolm almost laughed at that: no room.

He pushed the mug away from him, then lay his head on his arms. His eyes looked out into the deep blackness, speckled with the distant, icy glare of the stars.

There was a hesitant, feathery touch on his shoulder.

Malcolm surged upright, whirling in his chair. He hadn't heard anyone come in.

_Trip_ , was his first thought, and his heart ached with it.

But it wasn't Trip. Of course it wasn't.

"Malcolm," Joshua said. "I didn't mean to startle you." He had a tragic little smile.

* * *

"It's all right," Malcolm said. His smile was barely a passing ghost on his face. "You're up late." His eyes were black in the half-light, his face overcome by shadows. And Joshua wanted him so badly it was terrifying.

"I couldn't sleep," Joshua said, "I was thinking about you." He paused, wishing that he felt angry, that he felt anything other than this longing that burned him like a fire in his blood. "Are you and Commander Tucker lovers?"

He thought that Malcolm might have been startled by that, by Joshua knowing. But instead the lieutenant just turned away, closing his eyes. He shuddered, as if shaking off new pain. "We were," he said. The words dropped like stones.

So they were lovers; had been. And now Malcolm was in agony. Joshua so badly wanted to reach for him, touch his face, thread his fingers through Malcolm's hair and make the man turn back to him. Make Malcolm see him. _I'm here. I'm here. I'm here._

He didn't move. His hands stayed fixed at his sides, balled in fists so tight his nails felt like claws in his palm. "Why did you come to my cabin?" Joshua asked him.

"I don't know," Malcolm said. He was still looking away, as if searching for something in the darkness. "I don't know why I did. I'm sorry."

Joshua hadn't thought it could hurt so much to breathe. "Was I...Was I just something to...take the edge off? To take your mind off of the Commander? Is that all I was?"

Malcolm turned back to him. His face was open and honest and sad. "No," he said simply, "that wasn't all of it."

Joshua drew in a breath, hating how it seemed to shake in his lungs. "But that was most of it." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Malcolm said. "I'm sorry."

"I see," Joshua said. He closed his eyes, made himself keep breathing. He felt the air tremble in and out, in and out. He swallowed, and it hurt, but he consciously relaxed his hands.

So, this is what it was. This is what it had to be.

His eyes opened again, and he kneeled down, so that his head was lower than Malcolm's, so that Joshua was looking up at him. Joshua reached out and skimmed his palm gently over the side of Malcolm's face, threaded his fingers through the lieutenant's hair.

"It's all right," he said, making himself look into those shadowed eyes, willing himself to mean it. "It's all right." But it still felt like his heart broke when he said it.

There was a sound, like a soft movement of air, from the other side of the room: the doors opening.

Joshua pulled his hand back immediately, already turning, but even then he knew it was too late—that whomever just entered had seen.

It was the commander standing there, just on the inside of the doors. His face was a blank mask in the semi-darkness, but Joshua could see the anger in every line of his body.

An instant later, Tucker had left again.

"I've got to leave," Malcolm said, voice tight. "I'm sorry." And he watched as Malcolm stood and walked out of the room, leaving Joshua alone behind him.

* * *

"Trip! Damn you, Trip!" Malcolm gritted his teeth. Trip was ignoring him, moving with swift, furious purpose down the corridor. He finally stopped outside his quarters, casting a burning glare in Malcolm's direction as he stabbed his code into the door panel.

Malcolm ran the last few meters to Trip's cabin, thrusting his hand into the space between the closing door and the doorframe. He slipped inside when the door automatically pulled back from the obstacle.

Trip had his hands clenched, practically trembling with rage. His head was bent, as if he couldn't bear to look Malcolm in the face, and Malcolm was suddenly reminded of a wild bull ready to charge. "Get the hell out."

Malcolm just folded his arms, looking coolly back though inside he felt like screaming. "No."

"Is that why you 'let me go' so easy?" Trip's voice exploded into a shout. He made a jagged gesture at the door, meaning the mess hall beyond it. "Because of him?" He took a step forward. Malcolm didn't move. "Tell me," Trip snarled, "how long did you wait before you went to him? Or have you been with him all this time?"

"I never cheated on you, Trip," Malcolm said evenly. He had to concentrate to keep his voice level and calm. "If you don't know that, than you never really knew me at all."

"Yeah, well, maybe I didn't," Trip snapped. "I sure as hell never expected t'see you with some fucking shark-boy less n' a _week_ —"

"After you broke up with me?" Malcolm interrupted him, taking a moment of vicious pleasure in the chagrin that flickered over Trip's face. He could hear anger snaking into his own voice, but now he welcomed it; anger was a wonderful substitute for pain. "You told me outright that you didn't want me any more, Trip." Even then, even with the anger warming him, he still couldn't say it without having to fight for control. It felt like a gut-punch, hard enough to stop his heart. "So forgive me if I'm unsure why whom I spend my time with should matter to you."

"Do you love him?"

Malcolm blinked, then glowered. "That's none of your bloody business."

"The hell it isn't!" Trip roared. He took another step forward, his expression angled and ugly. Malcolm relaxed his stance ever so slightly; prepared if need be to physically defend himself. "Tell me," Trip spat through clenched teeth, enunciating every word, "do you love him?"

"Of course I don't love him!" Malcolm shouted back. "I love _you_ , damn it! But you left me!" He shut his mouth, swallowing hard. He had almost said 'abandoned.' But that's what it had felt like—like he was adrift now, connected to nothing and no one. Like he wasn't even entirely alive. His eyes blurred, tearing, and he hissed a curse at himself as he cleared them with his palm. "You bloody, sodding bastard." Had to choke the words out, disgusted at his own weakness. "You threw me away."

Malcolm watched, with a kind of distant fascination, as Trip's anger dissipated. "I didn't 'throw you away,' Malcolm," Trip said, surprisingly gently. He shook his head. "I thought you understood." He reached for Malcolm, then, to put a hand on his shoulder or arm, but Malcolm stepped back.

"No, Trip," Malcolm said quietly, "I don't understand. I thought you loved me. I thought we'd get through this together. But you—" He turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut. "You can't have it all ways, Trip," he said after a moment. "You can't have it all ways. You can't tell me you don't have room for me in your life anymore, then expect me to wait for you. I can't do that, Trip. I can't. It hurts too much."

"So...so, that's it?" Trip asked. His voice was incredulous, husky and thick. "You're just gone? Just like that? You're gone?"

Malcolm's lips curved up in a tiny, frail smile. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I..." Trip hesitated. His face was stricken. "I don't know," he whispered.

Malcolm nodded. "I think you do." He moved forward then, reaching for the back of Trip's neck. He pulled Trip down to him, kissed him softly. "Goodbye, Trip," he said when he stepped back. He turned and walked to the doorway, then out of Trip's quarters.

He could feel Trip's eyes on his back, all the way down the corridor, but the commander never tried to stop him.


End file.
